Of Loyalty And Lies
by GoodForBad
Summary: There had been no way to know they'd end up here, sailing above the darkened lands of Svartalfheim, working together once more to conquer a common enemy. In which the brothers plan the way they might deceive Malekith.
1. Through Wicked Lands We Fly

**A/N: Dialogue can be tough to write sometimes. But after watching The Dark World, this is just one of those scenes I got to thinking about and here we are. **

**This DOES contain spoilers for TDW, but I'm kind of starting to think that there isn't many of us out there who haven't seen it yet, but still. Hope you enjoy.**

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"I wish I could trust you."

The wind whistled harshly in his ears and he eyed his brother as the words crashed against his heart. There were far too many conflicting emotions at this point, too many issues to focus on, and yet he found himself wishing Thor had not spoken those words. Frigga's kind face flashed unbidden in his mind's eye, the last time he had seen her. He did not expect to be trusted - he barely trusted himself - and yet he wanted, no, _needed, _his brother to know the fury and pain that still coursed through his body at the mention of her murder.

But it would not be so.

"Trust my rage," he whispered into the wind, but Thor either did not hear or did not care to respond. He was gazing lovingly at his mortal, but his face suddenly hardened and he stood, turning to face Loki once more.

"We are nearly upon them," he said grimly, "and we must discuss what we are to do next."

"By all means, enlighten me," Loki said with a wry smile, his arrogant visage present once more.

"You are a talented liar, Loki," Thor said quietly. "And for once, it is a good thing." Loki raised an eyebrow. "Malekith is cunning and not easily fooled. If we are to destroy the Aether, it must be done through deception. That is where you come in."

"Forgive me if this bothers you," Loki said, straightening. "But the Aether is...oh, how can I put this...indestructible."

"We are still going to try," Thor replied with an icy stare.

"Seems counterproductive," Loki said with a shrug, "but I do understand your motivations. At this point, your selfish concern lies with the mortal and none else. Which is odd, since there is the high probability she will be killed."

"Loki."

"Thor." A gust of wind whipped between them both, but neither moved. "You might remember I was quite the studious child. At a time when the Dark Elves were considered nothing but history, I learned of the great battle and the means in which Asgard overcame them. You cannot destroy the Aether, and despite your thick skull, I think you know it. The only thing you want is to get the Aether out of _her - "_

"Enough." Thor was uncharacteristically quiet, but anger simmered in his electric blue eyes. "You would claim my motivations are selfish, and perhaps a part of them are. I do not want Jane to be destroyed, nor do I want Asgard to fall. I love my home and I love her." He cleared his throat, as if the admission made it difficult to breathe. "So if my desire to protect that which I care about is selfish, then yes. I am selfish. But at least I can still find room in my heart to protect what matters, despite pain and loss and death. Of this you can be sure." Loki stared him down, absorbing the obvious dig, and bared his teeth in a vicious smile.

"Then that is where we differ most, Odinson. I seek to _avenge._"

"We are wasting time with idle chatter," Thor said, ignoring him. "Here is what I propose: Malekith will sense the Aether is near. He will seek us out, and he will not be difficult to find. Upon our meeting, I will offer him the Aether in exchange for him staying out of Asgard. Jane will be hidden by you - "

"That will not work," Loki stated. Thor glared at him.

"I know you think me stupid, but I hope to deceive him. If we can get him to think that I want him out of Asgard - which obviously he would not return since we have brought the Aether to him - he will think himself the victor and I a fool. Upon his word, we will reveal Jane and when he has extracted the dark force from her, I will destroy it. Without it, Malekith will be no match for us and we can stop this before it starts."

"Always the sword before the strategy," Loki sighed and gazed out at the hideous landscape. "You yourself stated that Malekith is cunning and not easily fooled. You think he would believe you would offer him the Aether in exchange for Asgard's protection? He would see right through it." Thor began to speak, but Loki held up a finger. "You are also blinded in your worry. The power that courses through _her _will destroy her, and you think only of removing the threat. But how do you know Malekith will not kill her to get it? Or in even greater likelihood, that he will not kill us all once he has attained it?"

"I mean to destroy it," Thor started again, but Loki slammed his hands against the ledge of the skiff.

"It will not work. You would give Malekith his power and lead us as lambs to the slaughter. And then what will become of that which you _love?_"

"Then what would you have us do, Liesmith? I needed you only to get here. As of now, I have no further use of you."

"I will not let your stupidity kill you," Loki snapped. _I mean to protect you._ "You are right in saying Malekith must be deceived, but not in the way you have presented. I have a plan, and you will listen." Thor stared at him, at a loss for words.

_Sentiment. _

"The dark elves have keen senses, their sight and hearing especially. They will not know we know this." Loki stepped closer and pointed. "We should set out on foot, as they _will_ be seeking us out. When they spot us - preferably from a distance - we will let them know we have perceived them."

"How?"

Loki shrugged. "It doesn't matter. When they do spot us, it is then that I will betray you."

"...what?"

Loki smiled.

"My dagger," he said, even as it slid into his waiting palm. He held it up and the dismal light glinted off its sharp point. "I do hope you do not mind being stabbed."

"Loki..." Thor faltered. "I do not understand."

"Recall New York," Loki said softly. Thor blinked and his breathing changed. "Upon that Stark Tower, when my blade found its way to your side. I ensured it would not hurt you then, and it will not hurt you now." Thor balked.

"You mean to say you did not mean to harm me - "

"The elves will be watching and hearing every word we say," Loki continued. "We will make it look as if I have turned against you. I will then offer the Lady Jane to Malekith, as if to align myself with them. You must act quickly, however, when he takes the Aether from her. It will not take long." He eyed his blade and with a wave of his hand, it disappeared from view. "In all likelihood, even the mighty power of Mjolnir will not overcome. We will have to fight. And ensure her safety." He nodded to Jane, who remained asleep and unmoving. "Either way, I cannot see either of us surviving this."

"You plan well, brother," Thor said quietly. "But it needs more." Loki raised an eyebrow.

"Is that so?"

"Yes. I do not want Malekith to doubt. I think you should..." He faltered once more, staring hard at the ground. In the next moment, blue eyes met his. "Perhaps we should make it look as if you have killed me."

"Is that not what my stabbing you is for?" Loki inquired, but Thor shook his head slowly.

"I fear it will not be enough. With your grand illusions and trickery, perhaps you could make it look as if..." He faltered.

"Yes...?"

"As if you have cut my head off." Thor stared at him grimly. The faith he was willing to give Loki at that moment was raw, stupid even, especially in light of his expressed desire to trust him but moments ago. Loki eyed him for a moment before bursting into hysterical laughter.

"Dearest brother, you would trust me to cast the illusion of your decapitation instead of actually doing it? Even after literally _telling_ me you thought I would betray you?"

He paused but a moment before saying, "Yes."

"Then you would be the fool I always took you for," he said darkly. His face lit up but a second later. "But I rather like your idea. Even so, perhaps we can make it less of a risk, hm?" Loki eyed his bound hands for a moment and said, "What about your hand?"

"What good would that do? If we want Malekith to believe you have betrayed me, why would you _not _critically stab me and then only cut my hand off?"

"Because I do not_ actually _want to kill you, Thor." They stared at one another before Thor bent down and tucked the blanket securely around Jane. He then stood and brushed past his brother, to the back of the skiff, and stared out at the dark surroundings.

"That is debatable. I do not trust you," he spoke into the air, "but I fear I have no choice." Loki followed and stood beside him, slightly perturbed at his back-and-forth tendencies with trust.

"It will work," he said quietly. "At least in some ways." Thor swallowed and looked at him - really _looked _at him. An unwanted memory of their conversation before Thor's coronation popped unbidden into his mind, and Loki realized Thor looked upon him the same way now he did then.

It unnerved him.

"You must promise me something," Thor murmured. He reached out and placed a hand on Loki's shoulder and gripped it firmly. Loki somehow could not find the need to pull away. "Whatever happens - however this ends - do not risk yourself. In any way. I would not have you be injured or even killed by these creatures."

Loki smiled, all teeth. "Concern for my welfare, brother? How very unfitting."

"It is not concern," Thor shot back, but squeezed his shoulder tighter. "I will not allow them another death, another victory. Especially not through my own fault. I am the one who brought you here."

"And the one who is no longer in need of me." Thor heaved a sigh, but his features brightened when Loki shot him a tiny grin. He almost smiled back.

He could pretend, for just a moment, that things had never changed.

"Promise me, Loki." Said brother gave a dramatic roll of his eyes, but only nodded and said,

"I promise." Thor nodded and released his grip, then cast a glance at his mortal.

"I suppose I should wake her and tell her."

"No." Thor raised an eyebrow and Loki shrugged. "Her reaction will be far more genuine if we do not let her know. You and I have fooled many an enemy before, but she could prove to be our downfall. She already does not trust me. It is safer this way." Thor crossed his arms and smirked.

"If I did not know better, I would think you were actually on our side."

"I am on no one's side but my own," Loki replied, staring out once more at the view. "And as I've said, I seek to avenge." Thor let out a puff of breath and stood by him, resting his leg against the ledge. Mere seconds passed in silence before he noticed finally noticed Loki staring at Jane. He turned his head towards her and noticed she was awake, her eyes an odd, electric blue.

"Jane," he murmured, but she ignored him and went to stand at the bow of their small ship, looking at the sky.

"Malekith," she whispered and a small thrill shot through his chest. He glanced sideways at Loki, who was grinning foolishly at him.

"Showtime," he mouthed. With hands on the steering stem, they slowly began their descent into Svartalfheim.

* * *

It was odd, watching the Kursed pound the mighty Thor into the ground. Easily vanquished foes were one thing, but he could not recall the last time his brother (not brother) had been so swiftly beaten. In another time, another place, he would have been horrified. At the moment though, the only feeling he could distinguish in his raging thoughts was pure and unadulterated fury.

First his mother (_oh yes his mother_) and now Thor. Not going to happen.

Not in this life.

He cast a quick glance around and spotted one of those ghastly grenades that had nearly taken his life (_were it not for Thor, you are merely returning the favor, that is all). _It was still attached to the belt of the lifeless body of the unfortunate elf who had dared to challenge him. He snatched it quickly, ignoring the simpering whimpers of Thor's mortal. At the last minute, he ran and grabbed a spear lying in the dirt, attached the grenade, and rushed to his brother's aid.

The air of this realm was acrid and it burned his lungs as he ran. In seconds he was upon them and without a second thought, he aimed his weapon and thrust it straight. As it left his fingers he pressed the side of the grenade and briefly let himself wonder if he could get himself and Thor out of the way before it activated. The spear found its target, directly into the center of the Kursed's back and straight through its body. Loki barely let a smile grace his lips before the thing turned, eyeing him with a deadly stare. He suddenly knew in that moment what would happen.

He did not have time to move before the Kursed grabbed him and pierced the spear into his heart.

He heard Thor's scream faintly in the back of his mind, but the pain had begun to ripple and swell and course through him even as he was shoved to the ground. In seconds, the mere act of breathing became far too painful, but he managed to spit out, "See you in Hel, monster."

There was no time for it to yank out the spear before the grenade exploded and swallowed the thing whole.

Thor rushed to his side, his face beaten and bloody, muttering, "No, no, no." He snatched the forsaken prince into his trembling arms and rasped, "Oh you fool, you didn't listen..."

"I know, I'm a fool...I'm a fool..." Loki managed, and there was so much - _so much _he wanted to say, but his words, his silver weapon, were suddenly failing him in that moment. An unfamiliar terror was creeping into his heart and the icy fingers of death were slowly wrapping about his being, but it was not until he heard the words of his brother that he realized...

"Stay with me, okay."

...he was dying.

Norns, this was weird. He had taken so many lives in his time, yet he had never imagined what it would feel like to watch the world fade away as he took his last breaths. Never realized he was never going to see Thor's face again or taste the sweetness of a fresh strawberry or watch the snow fall as he read a book in the library or _oh god this was not supposed to happen this way. _

Visions flashed in a span of seconds. All that he had done. All the wrongs he had committed, all the mistakes he had made. One simple act of rescue would not change his fate or alter where he was headed. The thought in itself was terrifying, and for the first time in a long time, he did not know what to do.

"I'm sorry...I'm sorry, I'm sorry -" More needed to be said. Thor deserved better, he deserved an explanation, not the stammering apology of a dying man who was trying to make up for all his sins with a few (_genuine, real_) words. His lungs wouldn't work. Black lines ran through his vision like streams of rain on a windowpane. _I was jealous, I was weak, I wanted to prove myself - _

"It's alright," Thor whispered, feigning strength. This much Loki knew. Asgard was a warrior culture. Tears were not allowed on the battlefield. Such sentiments were practically beaten out of every young warrior-to-be. But Thor was Thor, his face an open book. This was hurting him. "I'll tell father what you did here today," he then said, and gave a determined nod. _Because you won't be able to. _

Such a thought was almost funny.

"I didn't do it for him," Loki murmured, his fingers and arms and legs going numb with the dull ache of death. _It was for you, Thor._

_It was always for you. _

_He could feel it, then. The poison working its way into his heart, which then pumped the vile stuff into his veins. And it hurt. God, did it hurt. Somehow, in this painful, life-ending state, he still didn't want his brother to see. Yes...his brother. Thor shouldn't have to see the piercing agony and if he could not do or say anything meaningful to one of two who had never ceased loving him, he could do him one last favor and spare him the sight of his lifeless eyes. __And so he closed them, fading away into whatever fate awaited him, his silver words dead on his lips that he had longed to speak since the day he fell. _

_I love you, Thor..._

He did not hear the agonizing howl that ripped the air in two.

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**Only question now is, should I continue this? I've got theories as to what happens after all of this, but is it worth turning it into a multi-chapter fic? Leave a review and let me know! **


	2. From The Dust

**A/N: So it seemed that people liked the first chapter and wanted me to continue, so...here we are! Many apologies for how long this took. Life sucks when it comes to getting in the way. Interestingly enough, the last chapter was supposed to be a one-shot, but ideas kept flowing, so now this will be a three-shot in all likelihood, and possibly even a four-shot. Though I will probably have to change the summary at some point...hmm...**

**Anyway, enjoy!**

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With a strangled cry and the underlying remnants of searing pain, he opened his eyes.

Something wet stained his cheeks, and he raised a trembling hand to wipe whatever it was away. It took him a second to realize that his vision was blurred and that with every blink, the moisture reappeared. _Tears? _Blasts of filthy wind, carrying dirt and rocks, whipped around his body in violent bursts. Debris flew into his eyes and he wiped and blinked, wiped and blinked. Where was he? What...what was this sensation that burned in his ribs and -

_No. _

His breathing quickened and he forced himself into a seated position, tearing open his shirt until he could eye the blackened blood that still oozed from his open wound. Tiny sparks of green flickered on the area, sending mini electric shocks into his skin. He started shaking uncontrollably the longer he stared as realization dawned like a blow to the face.

_NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO_

His body, his magic, was attempting to heal him. And whatever force worked inside and against him was keeping him alive.

With a choked sob, he quickly closed his shirt again and could not find the energy to move. He was caught in the middle of some windstorm apparently, but the anger flaring in his heart stopped him from feeling it.

There would be no release. There would be no fairness. After much rejection in life, he had hoped to somehow repair or resolve this blasted curse upon him through his sacrifice.

But in the end, even death had rejected him.

His fingers curled into a fist beside him, and familiar thoughts soon pushed their way into his mind. So even after all of this, Thor had just left him here. He had left his supposedly-dead body in this God-forsaken realm to rot in the land of their enemies.

It seemed he was not worthy of a proper Asgardian burial.

A fist-sized rock came flying unexpectedly from the torrents of wind around him, striking him in the face below his left eye. In a sudden moment of uncontrollable fury, he screamed and shot a blast of magic at the harmless rock. It dissolved into useless dust. A moment later he was on his hands and knees, wheezing, the pain in his chest nearly crippling him with angry burning. Interestingly enough, the pain brought clarity. _Think, you dolt. _He forced the bitter reasonings from his mind and allowed himself to ponder with rationality. Thor had not abandoned him. With their failed plan, Malekith still lived and still strove to cast the universe into darkness. He had to be stopped. He only wondered how his brother planned to depart from this forsaken realm without his aid.

He gasped, crawling towards nowhere, whimpering quietly as each beat of his heart sent screaming flames throughout his body. Beads of sweat mingled with his tears and he obsessively swiped at his forehead to no avail.

This was, in every aspect, far worse than death.

His racing mind sought out an explanation. He could remember nothing but darkness since his parting thoughts and then the fiery ache of waking. He had been dying. This much he knew. So why? For what possible reason could the Norns have decided to spare him, or perhaps, damn him to a prolonged existence in the universe? Right now, it didn't seem to matter. The fact remained that he was still alive...

For now.

It struck him then that perhaps he _was_ still dying. That the poison that still swept through him would take its sweet time in delivering the finality of death. He stared down at one of his hands, unaware that he was still crawling, until he bumped into an outcrop of blackened rock. He raised his trembling hands to his face, squinting through the storm, and noted they were no longer striped with the black veins. Come to think of it, the pain was nestled neatly in the center of his chest, as if something had isolated it to that area alone. Yet at the same time, with no place for the pain to be distributed, it consolidated and intensified in its designated spot, angrily fighting against whatever constraints held it at bay. Jaw clenched, he slammed a fist into the dirt, heaving, as waves of nausea crashed against his skull. He fought with everything he had, but it swelled within him like the storm that raged around him. Turning his head, he violently vomited blood and splattered the earth with the poison.

He nearly choked at the acidic taste of it, body shuddering as it expelled the force from his body. He wanted to scream as he clawed at his injury, but the agony stilled his tongue and he retched until he had nothing more to give. Breathing heavily, and swallowing down the sourness in his mouth, he slumped against his rock. His heart pounded against his skull, and he slowly raised his hands to his ribs. He closed his eyes, chanting the words to a spell softly, and jerked as the wound knit itself together. Slowly, oh so slowly, the pain began to subside and when it was finally done, he heaved a sigh of relief and collapsed to the ground.

Perhaps hours passed, or mere seconds. He could not tell when he awoke a second time, the torment of his pain seeming a distant memory, or a dream. He involuntarily placed his hands upon his still-bare chest, marveling at the smoothness of where a gaping hold should be. Dried blood was all that remained of the dreaded wound. He almost smiled.

He stood then, blinking. The windstorm had passed, but the landscape looked no different. He took a hesitant step forward, then another. His mind was racing once more and the smallest sigh escaped his lips.

Now what?

He had no clue where Thor might have gone. Not that he had any intention of following him, even if he could find him. His brother thought him dead (_once again_), and he was intent on stopping Malekith, as it was. Loki's presence would do him no good.

A return to Asgard would ensure his imprisonment once more, and he wondered if the Allfather would inflict a far worse punishment now that Frigga and Thor alike were no longer around to stop him. Hatred for the man flared unbidden in his heart and he nearly stumbled in his distraction. Understanding suddenly dawned that yet again, he had no place in the vastness of the cosmos.

He belonged nowhere.

He trudged along, cursing himself and his inability to die. It was not long before he came upon the skiff they had arrived in, and he wondered if it was pure coincidence that he found it now, or if he had subconsciously remembered where it was all along. The sight of it sparked several ideas and he stopped in his advance. He began to pace, rubbing his chin in thought. He knew not of other passages to the other realms in this wasteland, save to Asgard. Upon his return, he could travel to any realm he wished and it would not be difficult to hide himself. But yet again that nagging thought returned: to where would he go from Asgard? And interestingly enough, he could not help but be insanely curious as to what had transpired after Thor's act of treason.

_Are you a complete imbecile? _

Somehow the idea was becoming more appealing.

With a simple wave of his hand, his form shifted into that of the guard that Thor had deemed "better company" on their way out of the palace. A smile tugged at his lips and while one half of his mind screamed insults at his own stupidity, the other assured him this was going to be great fun. He turned swiftly to the skiff and it was only moments later he was back in Asgard, on a remote island that was not far from the initial mountain passage he had taken to Svartalfheim.

When he had finally transported himself to the gates of the palace, an odd lurching yanked at his heart and he came to realize that his magic was being severely strained. On top of his healing, his image and his travel, he also maintained his imperceptibility to the wandering eyes of Heimdall. The final transport seemed to push him over the edge, and every step was increasingly difficult.

_Serves you right. _

But he continued. Lies flowed smoothly from his mouth when various guards asked him of his reasons for wanting to see the Allfather. "I've reports from the Dark World. I must see the Allfather immediately."

He was utterly amazed, yet not surprised, at the lack of effort it took to fool them all.

In the workings of Asgard, there were so many units and divisions within those units of the palace guard and army alike that no one demanded who had authorized his supposed travel to Svartalfheim. Word would get to them eventually that no such order had been given to scout that land. But it would take time, and he was not the least bit worried.

Standing before Odin, his once-father, did not unnerve him as much as he thought it would. Any hopes of regret on the Allfather's part for what he had done had been stamped out the last time Loki had stood before him.

_Your birthright was to die. Cast out as a child on a frozen rock. _

"I come from the Dark World with news," Loki stated. Odin turned then and looked so incredibly _old._ Weak.

"Thor?" he whispered. Not a shock. The golden prince was always on the forefront of his mind.

"No sign of Thor or the Aether, but..." He paused for dramatic effect. "We found a body." A breath passed.

"Loki." He said with some air of finality, perhaps even...relief? Despite it all, a smile graced the fake guard's face.

"Indeed."

"How?" His voice came out as a hoarse whisper, almost imperceptible.

"Piereced through the chest. It was a gruesome sight. Whatever blade found its way into his heart must have poisoned him as well - his skin was blackened and coarse to the touch." No point in lying about _that. _If Thor returned (_when_ he returned), his report would be the same. Odin visibly slumped and Loki frowned.

"No...my son..." He turned viciously to him then, his one eye glinting with anger. "Where is he. What have you done with his body."

"My...my liege," Loki stammered. _What is this? _"We were unable to recover the -"

"You left his body in that wasteland!" Odin boomed and had Loki been anyone else, he might have flinched. Being as he was, he was accustomed to such outbursts, yet the reason for it remained baffling to him. "My son..._my son..._" Odin placed a hand over his face and mumbled into it. "He is to receive a proper burial. Re...retrieve the body."

Loki stared at him, unable to move.

"At once!" Odin barked, slamming Gungnir into the floor. "Return to the Dark World and...and bring him home." He noticed then how the Allfather shook, and the sheer oddity of it kept him from moving. Odin did not seem to notice as he continued mumbling incoherently to himself. "We cannot just...leave him...in the..." He began to slip, and grasped Gungnir even as he slid down. Loki stood and stared, eyes wide, realization dawning as to what was occurring here.

He had seen this before. He knew what this meant.

_The Odinsleep. _

It was just like the first time - he could do nothing for or against him, and just simply watched as the great and powerful Allfather fell to the floor with Loki's name on his lips.

He realized in that moment that they were alone.

And a plan began to form.

* * *

**Thoughts? Leave a review and let me know! **


	3. Born To Be A King

**Yay! Another update!**

**I seriously SUCK at getting back to people, but I really wanted to extend a most heartfelt THANK YOU to all who have left reviews. By far, this story has received far more attention than my others have, and for that I am truly grateful. I deeply apologize for not responding to each of you individually...but like I said, I suck. *sad face* **

**But without further ado...enjoy. **

* * *

Loki had always been a planner. From the time he first became fully cognizant of the world around him, methodical thinking had been his ally. In a world where they were all taught from infancy to act first and think later, he had taken the opposite approach - listening before speaking, thinking before doing. In most cases, it had been a great advantage over those were far more dimwitted. Yet he was often questioned for it, or perhaps more accurately, ridiculed.

"The thrill of a fight is found in the unknown," Thor had once claimed as he attempted to sway Loki from his spells and magic towards something he declared far mightier - a weapon. "The skill of your opponent cannot be truly measured until the midst of the clash. Prior to that, you know not of their training or their fighting strategy. And it is once you realize that you have found their weakness, that chink in the armor - that is when you know you have _won._"

And despite the path it took to get here, Loki, when sitting upon the throne of Asgard, found he agreed.

Things fell into place rather rapidly after Odin had collapsed before him. Loki had approached him slowly, almost tentatively, until reaching out and placing a hand upon his arm (_just like the first time, oh so long ago_). He had closed his eyes, chanted a few ancient words softly, and they had both been transported to the dungeons of the palace. With the last remaining bits of his magic, he cast a spell over his once-father's form to resemble that of a common criminal. And even as the Allfather's familiar face melted into that of another, Loki's transformed as well.

Maintaining his invisibility extended to that of Odin's appearance - Heimdall would be none the wiser.

And he had left him. He had left him in the dungeon, sleeping peacefully, when by all rights he should have slit his throat and been done with it.

_He will be safe there,_ some irritating thought nagged at the back of his mind. He pushed it away violently. Taking the form of the Allfather could prove to be one of, if not the best, trickery he had ever pulled. He had realized that he was the only one who could truly convince the people and court alike that he was Odin. He had grown up with the man - he knew his mannerisms, his tones, his movements. It was almost too easy.

But Loki had always been a planner. And it had always worked to his own advantage.

"Bring the prisoners forth," he declared in the Allfather's voice, back straight and arms relaxed. He could not help but give the smallest of smirks as the grand doors opened and the clanking of chains filled the halls. He watched with a transfixed stare as the three of them came forth, and a familiar anger flared in his heart. It felt like a far-off dream that he had once stood in the same spot they were, bound as they were, staring as they were with blank expressions.

But he could sense their fear.

Their fear of the unknown.

"You have been charged with committing treason against the throne of Asgard," he began, staring at each of them in turn. "By aiding a prisoner in escape who was ordered to remain within the palace walls for the safety of the entire realm, and expressly disobeying the orders of your king." He leaned forward, his voice rising slightly with a nasty snarl. "What have you to say?"

"My king," Volstagg murmured. It was odd barely hearing him - the man was usually so loud and boisterous. "We are guilty of the charges against us. We want to accept full responsibility -"

"Responsibility?" Loki boomed, rising from his throne. _Just as Odin would. _"You accept responsibility for the actions you willingly committed, and the consequences they inevitably brought? I should hope so!" He slammed Gungnir to the ground and almost smiled when they collectively jumped. "You betrayed your oaths to this realm and to your duties as warriors of Asgard."

"Aye," Sif suddenly murmured and all, even Loki, turned to stare at her. She turned her own gaze upon him, bright and intense. He saw a variety of emotions there - pride, loyalty, defiance. She was oddly lacking in fear. "My king," she continued, her voice raspy and low. She maintained eye contact. "We have done as you have said. We have committed treason. But through our acts, this realm was spared the wrath of Malekith, and Thor - your son - successfully stopped his rampage while on Midgard. We will face the consequences of what we have done, but it does not mean we regret it." Though her words seemed like they would have been spoken in the heat of anger, she was incredibly calm, poised and respectful. She lowered her eyes and swallowed, her boldness from moments before gone as if she were...resigned to whatever fate awaited her.

Just as Loki had been as he stood before this throne, bound in chains, without a word of credible defense for his name.

How truly ironic.

It struck him then that they had all maintained the perfect boundaries of respect towards their king. Heads bowed in allegiance, voices soft. Loki was a master at finding deceit when it existed in terms of false sincerity.

Here, there was none.

It was a respect he had never been shown, and never would be. A reverence that would never be linked to his name. Not even when he had rightfully sat upon this throne by appointment of the Queen. Hatred and distrust towards him had run through their veins as true as their loyalty to Asgard when they had beheld him with the scepter in his hand for the first time. _  
_

He could never be the king they wanted. And so Loki Liesmith, God of mischief and lies, continued in his deceptive trickery.

_Not by choice, but by necessity. For what have I to offer besides treachery? _

_STOP_

"Fandral," he spoke quietly. The man had remained unusually silent and it was not like him to be so passive without at least a joke or a smirk. Yet his face was as still as a stone and he stared at him with a determined gaze. Something within Loki stirred and he found that his feelings towards this particular warrior fell nothing short of hatred.

_I see prison has made you no less ungraceful, Loki! _

"You are hereby sentenced to a public flogging, in which you will receive thirty lashes for the theft of royal weaponry. Afterwards, you will remain in the dungeon for seven moons." He made a motion with his hand and two guards stepped forward. "The Allfather has spoken." They grabbed Fandral by the arms and left without another word. Sif's eyes had widened and Volstagg visibly slumped.

He had surprised them. Good. They too had been far too privileged and catered to, by simple virtue of the fact that they were Thor's companions. They could do with some unnerving.

Imagine that.

The Allfather _not_ showing favoritism.

"As for you," Loki continued in Odin's demanding voice, staring at each of them in turn. "You will remain in the dungeons as well, until I deem your sentences finished. You are spared public humiliation only in that you harmed no one seriously during your ventures." Once more he slammed Gungnir to the floor. And again Sif and Volstagg nodded in compliance and allowed themselves to be lead away. For the briefest second, something that felt like guilt nudged at his heart. He sighed through his nose and sat upon the mighty throne, suddenly feeling as old as Odin truly was.

This was for their benefit, as well as for that of Asgard.

He reasoned with himself that the Allfather would have done the same.

* * *

"You are a coward," Loki whispered. He stared hard at the figure that lay comfortably on the cot in the prison. Gentle breaths, and the slow rising and falling of his chest. Somehow, despite the spell, he could still sense Odin's power beneath the surface. His wisdom. His many years.

Gods, how he wanted to _hate _him.

But he couldn't. Even if he said it out loud. Even if he sometimes thought he did.

It seemed irrationally unfair.

"You allow your grief to consume you. To blind you. For that, you would have let Asgard perish." He spoke into the open air in his own voice, wondering why he even bothered. Yet he knew why. Of course he did. Odin could still hear and see what happened around him. And Loki wanted him to _know._ Wanted him to hear what he had not been allowed to say, to feel what he had missed. to perhaps understand the mercy Loki had bestowed upon him. He swallowed. "Perhaps in this way I was wrong. Perhaps Thor, in his attempts to remove the Aether from this realm, demonstrated his ability for leadership. For kingship. Perhaps he is not the witless oaf I always thought him to be." A smirk graced the false Allfather's face and faded just as quickly. "I will repair the damage you have done. And until then, I will not ask for your forgiveness for what I am doing." He reached out slowly and placed his hand upon his once-father's arm once more.

He closed his eyes and murmured.

In an instant, he felt the force of the power flow into his veins, into his heart, into his spirit.

Had he not done this before, his magic would not have been replenished. And were he not gently sapping the building magic of the Allfather as he slept, he would soon awaken and Loki would be forced to face more judgement.

He was not ready for that.

He wasn't sure he ever would be.

He was struck in that moment with the sudden desire to lay his eyes upon Odin as he truly was. Even as the thought faded from his mind, the false appearance melted away and Odin laid before him. Loki's hand was aged no more, and he pulled it from the Allfather's arm.

He remained hidden from Heimdall's sight in these moments. And even if the powerful gatekeeper ever noticed that he lost sight of his king from time to time, he would never mention it.

His loyalty was that undying.

His loyalty...what Loki never had.

_Stop it. _

He sighed softly as Odin's power flowed through him and settled comfortably within, like hot tea to chase away the chill on a winter's night. He just stood and stared then, gazing down at the most powerful being in the Nine Realms, resting peacefully in his own dungeon. There was much Loki wanted to say. Much that he knew he _could,_ as he did not have to face the wrath of Odin in his waking. He could hide behind this shield of slumber and say what he wanted, weave his words like a tapestry and admonish or comfort as he might. Say what he could not when he stood before the throne.

_You should have told me._

_I wanted to make you proud. _

_I wanted to make you hurt._

_I wanted you to feel as I did. _

_I wished to prove I was worthy._

_Just as Thor was._

Yet he no longer saw the point.

Footsteps echoed in the halls behind him and he sensed the approach of another's aura. In the blink of an eye, he was Odin once more...but he stood outside of the cell and made it seem he was on a mere patrol.

How odd for a king.

"Sire!" a voice called out and he turned slowly, deliberately. A young soldier stood before him and hastily bent on one knee, arm crossed over his heart. "My king, I have come as quickly as possible to tell you."

"Speak quickly. I've matters to attend to." Loki stated, head tilted. The soldier lifted his eyes.

"Prince Thor, my Lord. He has returned."

* * *

**This was semi-difficult to write...even I found it a bit dull. But please let me know what you think. Hugs and kisses to all! **


	4. Truth Is But A Lie

**A/N: Welp welp, here we are at the last chapter. I wanted to note that despite my best efforts, I could not find ANYWHERE the actual dialogue that takes place between "Odin" and Thor at the end of The Dark World. Seeing as how I last saw the movie at the end of November, I had to improvise for the bits I could not readily recall. So my deepest apologies for what I KNOW I got wrong...when the movie comes out on DVD, I have every intention of fixing it because it's driving me nuts. Many thanks to those who waited patiently for updates on such a short story...my heart belongs to you. And I have more stories in the works, so check up on me from time to time!**

**Okay, shameless begging aside, I present to you the last chapter. **

* * *

This was ridiculous.

His throat felt too narrow, and it was difficult to swallow. If he stared long enough at his hands, he was certain he could will them to stop shaking. But this irritating flutter in his stomach was making him nauseous and he anxiously ran his hands through his hair when no one was looking.

It didn't help.

He wasn't nervous. Not in the least. He was certain Thor would be unable to see through this disguise (_but what if he does_), and he couldn't do anything even if he did (_demand his rightful place on the throne_).

He wasn't nervous. He _wasn't_.

He very much wished he could simply transport himself to the throne room by means of magic, but Odin never did such a thing and he was shortly flanked by guards on all sides as they marched back up from the dungeons. They would think it quite odd if their king suddenly disappeared before their eyes. The idea was tempting, but he was the Allfather now. Odin did no such thing. Never tricks. Never anything that even resembled mischievous behavior. In fact, such things had always been frowned upon and Loki could recall with clarity almost every time he had been chastised for a simple illusion or turning a piece of fruit into a frog -

_Calm yourself, fool. A clear mind denotes a calm spirit. _

He forced his mind on other things before the ramblings with himself could continue.

Ordinarily, he supposed it would be fitting to meet his brother (_not brother, son, not son)_ somewhere other than the hall where the throne resided. But that was not fitting for a king. A prince, perhaps. He had done so often when Thor would return from yet another voyage or hunt he had not been informed was happening, but would justify the rejection as a simple lapse of memory or

_STOP. _

"I wish to see my son. Bring him," he commanded and two soldiers instantly bowed and rushed to comply. He sat heavily and ran a hand down his face, sighing before he could stop himself. Gods, this was going to be...interesting. The last time he had beheld Thor, he thought he had been dying in his arms. He thought it would be the last time he would gaze upon that sorrow-stricken face; the face that was contorted in anguish for _his _sake, that shed tears for a lost brother who had returned to fight by his side. Who had supposedly sacrificed himself to protect the crown prince of Asgard.

And now he sat upon this throne, posing as this realm's king and Thor's father. The deception nestled deeply in his heart and the guilt of how truly wicked this seemed inexplicably intensified.

In that moment he knew.

He would remain dead. If he had ever entertained any notion of sharing with Thor what had actually transpired, it died instantly as footsteps echoed against the walls. Thor would immediately assume that Loki had played yet another trick, told yet another lie. He would never believe his last words had been said in earnest. This must remain a secret.

Loki had long ago become quite adept at masking what lied beneath. Doing it once more should not pose to be an issue.

He suddenly could not bear the thought of losing whatever affection Thor had regained for him in those last moments in that light-forsaken land. Such sentiment was not typical of Loki Laufeyson (_Odinson, Liesmith)_, but he found he needed it now. As he had once long, long ago.

And it was placed ever more heavily on his heart when he heard _that_ _voice. _

"Father!"

"My son." Loki's false voice was gruff with emotion that he was not faking in that moment. It took everything within him to stay where he was and not run to embrace him. Odin would never do such a thing.

Dignity. Always dignity.

Thor bowed before him and the irony was not lost on Loki. In spite of everything, he still found it difficult to suppress a smirk. _Born to be a king. _

"Father, I come to beg your forgiveness." Thor kept his eyes on the floor. "I went against your will. I disobeyed the commands of my king. For that I am truly sorry. I do not know what would have transpired had I not done so, but Malekith is defeated and the realms are safe. For this I cannot apologize, but I ask your forgiveness all the same." His voice had steadily gotten more quiet and Loki smiled at his submissive form. He somehow could not muster the hate and ill feelings he had when the Sif and the others had stood before him.

He had always thought Odin foolish for his willingness to put not only Asgard, but all the nine realms at risk.

"You are forgiven, my son," he said softly and Thor finally looked up, eyes wide. "My actions were foolish. Dangerous. You demonstrated a strength that I can openly admit I do not have. While we both mourned for your mother, you found courage amidst your grief. I found only guilt and a clouded judgement." He stared him full on then and gently shook his head. "Let us end this here, Thor. It is done." Thor nodded mutely and stood, suddenly looking less like a man and quite like an unsure little boy who did not know how to react to mercy. He seemed dumbstruck, so Loki continued. "You once said there would never be a wiser king than me. You were wrong." Even as he said it, he vaguely wondered how he knew this. Yet it seemed as true as the breath in his lungs and the sight before him...

It just _was._

"All the nine realms saw your willingness to sacrifice yourself during the convergence. What can we possibly give to you in return?"

"My freedom." He said it without hesitation and Loki could not stop himself from raising an eyebrow. My, my, what a transformation.

But it was what followed that truly left him breathless.

"I cannot take the throne, father. Loki, for all his grave imbalance, knew rule as I never will. He gave his life to protect both Jane and I, and died an honorable death. It is something I will never forget." A distant buzzing sounded in his ears and he suddenly could not remember the last time Thor had spoken so...so _highly _of him.

Then he remembered that he was supposed to be dead and the glamour of the moment faded. If anything, this proved beyond any doubt that Thor must never know the truth. He had been such a burden and disappointment in life...for the first time, it finally seemed that Thor now thought of him in lighter and far more respectful terms because of his sacrifice. He would not be able to bear ever casting himself back into the trickster role.

_Yet that is exactly what you are doing now._

Who was he to change this?

His mask remained unchanged. Thor would never know.

He could never know.

"Now tell me that I am banished or that Jane can rule by my side, and it changes nothing. I am not worthy, father." Loki blinked.

"Is this my son I hear speaking, or the woman he loves?" For the first time in a long time, he felt truly confused.

"Do I not hear mother when you speak?" Gods. It was time for a change of topic.

"One son who wanted the throne too much, and one who doesn't want it at all. Is this to be my legacy?" _All because Loki wants a throne. _

"Loki died with honor. I shall try to live the same. Let _that_ be your legacy."

The real Odin would never let Thor go. He would more than likely threaten. Perhaps banish again. Offer some some sort of misplaced punishment, or guilt his son into submission with words like obligation, duty, or that he could not abandon his people. But right now, Loki was struck with the thought that Thor needed to go. What was left for him in Asgard?

He would always wonder why he chose to refuse the throne, but as it worked to his advantage, he did not feel lead to question his brother's (_NOT_) decision.

"I cannot give you my blessing, nor can I wish you good luck. Even if I could, it would come only from my heart. Go, my son." Outright compliance would make Thor suspicious, surely. He feared he knew how to play this game too well.

But his next act gave his heart a start.

Thor turned his mighty weapon Mjolnir in his hand and offered it. A sign of submission, of humility. The Allfather would be touched. Millions of thoughts of what he could _do _with it battled for control in Loki's already-frenzied mind but of course logic rose to the surface and won.

_You could do nothing, of course. You have not the worth to wield it. _

_But what if Thor did not have it and_

_You could do nothing. Leave him be. _

Loki shook his head and raised his hand. "It belongs to you. If you are worthy of it." Thor nodded and grasped the handle firmly.

He turned then, and Loki was hit with another wave of...knowing. Of a memory he had not been there to experience, of Odin and Thor standing on the balcony nearest the feasting hall. Making the Allfather's aura his own apparently carried his own memories with it.

_Someday...I hope I will make you proud. _

_You've already made me proud. _

He felt the need to say something. One last word, as surely_ this_ would be the last time he would lay eyes upon Thor. "If I were proud of the man my son had become...even that I could not say." Thor turned back, and the smile on his face was one Loki had seen many times. He could not figure out why it wrenched his heart so.

"Thank you, father." _I am not your father. I am here, Thor. I am alive. You fool, how can you not see? _

He watched Thor's departing form and he inexplicably found this to be undeniably _funny._ Almost sickeningly so. Loki the trickster had triumphed again, but Thor had always been too trusting. So before the Golden Prince had disappeared from sight completely, Loki allowed the false image to fall to reveal a grinning, dark-haired man who still bore the glint of mischief in his eye.

He would fix this.

He would return Asgard to what it had been before.

He would protect his home from further attack, and undo the damage the all-knowing Allfather had inflicted upon it.

And as for those problems that remained...well, Loki was a planner. And it had always worked to his own advantage.

"No...thank _you._"

* * *

**And that's a wrap, folks! I'm a tad uncreative in ending it the same way, but really, what else is there to expound on? Many MANY thank yous to all who reviewed/favorited/followed...you are all the inspiration for my writings. **


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